


The Shape (and Colour) Of Him

by florencedrunk



Series: The March 2017 Stucky Challenge [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Colour-blind Steve, M/M, i'll use the american spelling for colour when hell freezes over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 01:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10177982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florencedrunk/pseuds/florencedrunk
Summary: Everyone seems to be interested in the more tangible effects of the serum — the muscles and the height and the strength — but not a lot of people think about the partial deafness, the ulcers, the sinusitis and all the other stuff.Surprisingly, Tony is one of the people who do.373. colorblind





	

Everyone seems to be interested in the more tangible effects of the serum — the muscles and the height and the strength — but not a lot of people think about the partial deafness, the ulcers, the sinusitis and all the other stuff.

Surprisingly, Tony is one of the people who do.

"You draw," he says one day while they are at the tower. It's not a question as much as a statement.

Steve looks at him and then down at his own lap, where he's holding his notebook, and then back at him. "You know, when people said you were even smarter than your father, this is not what I expected."

"No, I mean, you draw," Tony repeats. "How did you do that before?"

"We had pencils in the thirties, Tony."

"No, you know what I mean," he says. "You were colour-blind!"

"And?"

"And I've seen you drawings from back then, they are perfect."

"Okay, thank you?"

"How did you know to use the right colours?"

 

* * *

 

The answer to that question is threefold:

  1. He didn't know: when Steve thinks of the past, he thinks of it as sepia-coloured. Not because he's nostalgic or because that's how it really was, but because that how he saw it. It showed in the way he drew: his suns were green and his landscapes all brown, like they were fading away. That's how they found out he was colour-blind when he was five years old.

  2. Charcoal: once it became clear that he saw things in a different way than the all the other people, he decided to concentrate on what was the same for everybody: shape. Shape is the essence. Sure, colours look pretty and catch attention, but in shape lies the real meaning of things. So, he started drawing in black and white, paying attention to textures and the way objects move in space.

  3. Bucky: to be honest, these days Bucky is the answer for most of his questions. And to be even more honest, he's always been, and not without merit. When Steve got into art school, Bucky would spend hours sitting beside him telling him which fruit was which colour, describing the way the red gave way to yellow gave way to green depending on how the light hit the apple.




 

* * *

 

People say you only understand the true importance of things after you loose them. That is certainly true, but Steve understood the importance of colour as soon as he gained the ability to perceive it.

The first thing he saw once he came out of the chamber was Peggy, her uniform green and her eyes brown and her cheeks marked by the faintest accent of red. Not bad for his first glimpse of the new world.

Then, this new world became blue and white and red and a lurid whirlwind of town after town, theater after theater, handshake after handshake, and Steve found himself wishing he could return to his sepia-coloured routine. But he was doing his part for the greater good, even if it meant being a dancing monkey.

But it wasn't until he was walking back to camp from the Austrian Hydra base that he understood that there was something he loved more than colours. The world around him was exploding with the green of the trees and the light blue of the sky and the bright yellow of the sun, and then there was everything in between: the purples and the oranges and even the red of the blood on their clothes. But all he saw was Bucky.

Her knew the shape of him, had drawn it many, many times. He knew the curve of his nose and the form of his eyes. He could probably draw his body from memory, his shoulder and then his torso and then his legs. If he closed his eyes, he could see the way he walked, whether he was strolling through New York or running away from a screaming nun. He could see the way his lips moved as he talked, and the smile he reserved to dames at when they when out to some bar. He knew all those things about Bucky, but seeing him filled with colours was a completely new experience. The only thing that still looked the same was his eyes, still as grey as they always wrote.

Steve quickly discovered that the war was a lot like his world from before, all brown and gray and faded. Except for Bucky. Bucky was a goddamn beacon in the middle of it all. He was the red among the brown of camp, the green among the gray of the city, the blue among the white of the snow as he fell down.

 

* * *

 

"I used to label my pencils," Steve says instead of all those things.

Tony gives him a look but seems otherwise convinced by his answer, turning his eyes back to his tablet.

One day, he'll tell someone. One day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you have questions or just want to say hi you can find me on [tumblr](http://florencedrunk.tumblr.com).


End file.
